The Night After Christmas

  • Monday, January 14, 2013


With Christmas in your rearview mirror hereís my version of the Clement Clarke Moore poem.

It was the night after Christmas and all through the house
Iím beginning to think this Santaís a louse
The stockings were scattered and torn, gifts thrown everywhere
And me with my presents of dress socks, a plaid sweater and new underwear

We kids were all amped up on Dew and too much candy
And everyone but me thought Christmas was just dandy Ö
Because you see I didnít ask for any of these things
I asked for a baseball glove, a GI Joe, and not mittens with strings

So I sat there all glum and sulked among the clatter
I wanted one more chance to tell Santa whatís the matter
Just give me one chance and Iíd give a swift kick
Right to the seat of the pants of that idiot St. Nick

He brought my sisters a doll and an Easy Bake Oven
And my brother a Big Wheel, but for me I got nuthin
Just clothes and galoshes and a pair of cuff links
Yeah I was pretty certain, this Christmas stuff stinks

My younger siblings didnít have the first clue
As to why on this Christmas I was feeling so blue
So I went on to bed and started counting the days
Iíll get my revenge, oh yes, Santa will pay

Looking out my window at the new fallen snow
I hear a commotion coming from the yard far below
And what do I see that makes me take pause
Why those idiot reindeer and that #$@%! Santa Claus.

Will ball bat in hand I sprang from my bed
Iíll give Santa a good one right upside the head
And Dasher, Dancer and Prancer, even Vixen
Iíll swing for the fence and I donít plan on missin

I yelled, ďWhat the heck were you thinking?Ē as I ran outside
You promised me toys, and Santa, you lied!
These mittens are no good and these cuff links are rotten
And who cares if my underwear is 100 percent cotton?

Yet this little old man, this oversized elf
Had a sad look in his eyes that said I blame myself
With new labor laws and the elves out on strike
Plus Rudolph got sick, you donít know what itís like

Then Mrs. Claus who is usually quite sweet
Announced this Christmas we will no longer eat meat
I decided right then amidst my misery
That Iíd leave nothing but clothes under your Christmas tree

To read all of these lists from the worldís girls and boys
Asking for nothing but candy and toys
Then it hit me like the itch at the end of my nose
Itíd be nice to give one kid nothing but clothes.

And thatís you my good friend I chose you to receive
The pants and shirts with the extra-long sleeves
Itís you who got mittens and a new pair of socks
While others got toys and presents that rock

So take that Santa said and he flipped me the bird
And he jumped in his sled with nary a word
He looked at me with this sardonic glint in his eye
That said I better watch out I better not cry

He brought out his whip and gave it a crack
And away they all flew with jingle bells on their backs
And I heard him exclaim as he doffed his red lid
Enjoy the clothesÖ and Merry Christmas, kid

I never did like that poem anyway.

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